Planting Tumbleweeds
by Badgergater
Summary: Summary: "Doing the right thing shouldn't leave a man feelin' all wrong inside." Missing scenes and epilogue to S1 Episode Star Trail, complete with Slim and Jess and some wise words on the Sherman Ranch front porch


Planting Tumbleweeds

By Badgergater

Summary: "Doing the right thing shouldn't leave a man feelin' all wrong inside." Missing scene, and epilogue to S1 Episode Star Trail, complete with Slim and Jess and some wise words on the Sherman Ranch front porch

Author's Note: With thanks to Hired Hand, the best beta in the business

LARAMIE LARAMIE LARAMIE LARAMIE LARAMIE LARAMIE LARAMIE

" _You'll never get rich, Slim."_

" _Why not?"_

" _Plantin' tumbleweeds. No profit."_

LARAMIE LARAMIE LARAMIE LARAMIE LARAMIE LARAMIE LARAMIE

They gave Sheriff Hatch a hero's sendoff, the biggest, grandest, fanciest funeral Rock Springs ever saw, more like a Fourth of July fandango than a buryin'. But I guess I really ought to start this story long before he got himself killed, all the way back to when I went to Rock Springs, and before Hatch killed Curly Troy and I became his deputy.

PART ONE- Rock Springs

Now when I rode into Rock Springs, I never intended to stay, much less pin on a tin star and become a lawman. Never imagined I'd do such a thing. I mean, this is me, Jess Harper, we're talkin' about here. Sure I've met a lot of lawmen in my time; too many, come to tell, and I didn't like them no better than they liked me, with the one exception of that fellah with the odd name of Branch McGary. But that's another whole story than the one I'm here to tell.

The whole mess in Rock Springs had all started when my old friend, Vic Stoddard, had trouble and he sent a letter, askin' me to help him. Vic and me, we went way back, knew each other since we fought side by side in the late rebellion. He'd been a good man, a Texas man, kinda on the quiet side, easy goin' but strong and the sort of fellah who always found a way to get the job done. So when I got his letter, of course I'd answered his call for help - we'd soldiered together and that's a bond that can never be broke.

Except by death.

It had been a hard thing, learning Vic had been shot down, dead even before I made the long trip to Rock Springs.

So yeah, when I found out what had happened to Vic, I'd gone after Curly Troy with only one thing on my mind. I wanted him, wanted him bad, real bad, because I knew that he hadn't killed Vic in any sort of fair fight. I didn't have to see what happened to know that. See, Vic wasn't like me. He wasn't a man who'd draw on another without being backed into a corner. He hadn't been a hand with a gun, and he knew it. He was a smart man, smart enough not to get himself into a tussle he knew he couldn't win. Whatever had happened, there'd been no justice in it.

But it wouldn't be that way between Curly and me, no way. Now, I don't ever draw on a man without reason, and when I do pull my hogleg, it's gonna be a fair fight, and a fast one. I know I can handle my iron and I can clear leather in a hurry, and I ain't sayin' that because I'm braggin', nor am I lookin' for a dust-up, but I don't back down from one, neither.

And never with scum the likes of Curly Troy.

Oh yeah, I had my temper up and I'd have finished off that pretty boy right there in that saloon if it hadn't been for that sheriff nosin' his way in. I sure didn't like it none when that two-bit lawdog stepped between me and Curly.

Except real soon I learned Hatch wasn't just another overbearin' tin star. No, I didn't like the way he treated me, takin' away my gun and orderin' me outta his town. But what I took note of was how, in a quiet way, he was near as upset over Curly killin' Vic as I was. Even fired his own deputy for not stoppin' it. Once we were out in the street, he stood right up between me and Curly and saved my hide, because I was so blind mad that I'd have gone after that rancher's son out in the street and never even seen that back-shooter Gant backin' up Curly from the shadows. Oh, there's no doubt I could have outdrawn Curly; his rig was fancy but it wasn't fast, not fast like I am, when I need to be.

But I wasn't fast enough to get that man I never saw, the bushwacker hidin' in the dark in that alley.

Hatch seen what I wouldn't have seen, and I knew right away there were things I could learn from him, even if he was a lawman.

And besides, I couldn't let him be payin' my bills. He'd taken on Curly on account of me, bought himself a heap of trouble by doin' so, and I reckoned I owed him. And I may not own a thing but the horse I ride and the guns and clothes I wear, but I do pay my debts.

Always.

So I stayed on in Rock Springs. Surprised myself and talked Hatch into hirin' me on as his deputy. Real quick I settled in to livin' in town, and near got myself all do-mes-ti-cated.

It was a strange feelin', I can tell you that, bein' so dad-gummed respectable.

That first day as a lawman, to tell the truth, was sorta boring. I sat at the desk while Hatch took a nap, shufflin' through old wanted posters and readin' last week's newspaper and the one from the week before that. A lotta days turned out to be like that. A lawman's got to keep up on the news, though, Hatch explained, so readin' the local papers was part of the job. It was important to know what outlaws might be passin' through; know when there was trouble in other towns, suspectin' it might be comin' our way. Knowin' who's in town, who's hangin' around and who's just passin' through was important, too.

Even more important, Hatch explained, was readin' people. It was knowin' whether that bunch of cowhands riding in was lookin' for fun or for trouble. Knowin' whether that dandy who came in on the stage was just a real smart poker player or a card sharp dealin' off the bottom of the deck. Knowin' whether that loner ridin' in with his iron strapped on low really knew how to use it, and was lookin' for an opportunity to do just that, or just a man who wanted to be left alone.

"It's all about judgin' the people, Jess," Hatch told me one evening as we got ready to walk the town. "And you've got the eye for that, boy." He laughed and slapped me on the back. "People think bein' a lawman's all about enforcin' the law, catchin' robbers and killers and such. But if that's all you do, you've failed. A smart lawman, he stops the trouble before it happens. It's using your eyes and your ears and your head before you use your fists or your gun." He looked me up and down. "You got the makin's of a fine peace officer, Jess, a real fine one. You got the right instincts, you just gotta' hone 'em; file off some a'those rough edges."

I'm not sure how much filin' I did while I was his deputy, but I did a bunch of other stuff.

In those weeks I worked with Hatch, I broke up bar fights, hauled drunks on down to the jail to sleep it off, walked the streets every evenin' until I could have found my way around Rock Springs wearin' a blindfold. I got to know every shopkeeper, store clerk, bartender, saloon girl, and swamper, even the banker and the preacher. I ate Ma's good cookin' every day, mindful that I'd best watch or I'd have to start punchin' some extra holes in my belt, slept in that fine boardin' house featherbed every night, and reckoned that life in town could make a man soft in a hurry.

And before those first few weeks had passed, I learned that I really did have those lawman instincts, all right. I had the instincts to see that Evie was suckerin' Hatch like a fisherman danglin' bait in front of a hungry trout. And the instincts to see that there was somethin' mighty fishy about that lost money from the bank robbery.

Oh, I liked being Hatch's deputy and for a bit there I thought maybe I'd found my calling. But I pretty soon figured out that there were parts of the job that weren't all that much fun, parts that reminded me of the times in my past life that I hadn't liked much. Like the distance I had to keep with people, so no one could accuse me of favoritism, as Hatch explained it. There was the way some people looked at me, not the respectful way of the townsfolk who liked me, but the other look I saw in the eyes of some of the men who rode through, the long stares they gave me, the wide berth when they walked around me, like I was somethin' they couldn't trust any more than they'd trust a lowdown sidewinder. They didn't see me; they saw the badge, and judged me harshly by it.

And then there was the target I was wearin', the one pinned right there on my chest over my heart. "You can never forget you're a lawman, Jess, not for one second," Hatch warned. "Some folks will like you 'cuz you are one; some folks will be wary of you 'cuz you are one; and some folks will want to shoot you for no other reason than that you are one."

Watching my back every minute, never trustin' anyone, that was like the old days, the bad old days when I was on my own on the drift. It was a real lonely feelin' right there in the middle of a town full of people that I liked, and it left me uneasy.

Maybe livin' at the Sherman Ranch had made me soft that way.

Maybe, no matter what Hatch said, I really wasn't cut out to be a lawman.

In those first weeks, Hatch had shown me that a badge could stand for somethin' good and right, and then he'd gone and ruined it all anyway.

I hate what I had to do there in Rock Springs, even though I know it was the right thing and I saved a lot of people from a lot of real bad grief.

Didn't save myself none, though, because I knew the truth of it.

PART TWO- The Buryin'

Yup, that was some funeral they held for Hatch.

I reckon everyone who lived within 20 miles of the town showed up for the sheriff's funeral, like it was some grand event. The church was full to overflowin', some folks even had to stand outside, strainin' their ears to hear all the fancy speechifyin' goin' on inside. Besides the preacher's usual readin's from the good book, there were a bunch of long-winded thank yous, recallin' what a good man Hatch had been and how he should'a been appreciated more. After that, there was more talk from the mayor and the town council, heapin' praise on the sheriff for all that he had done for the town, especially him givin' his life in catchin' that last bank robber and recoverin' everyone's money.

For certain it was glorious, even if it was all a lie.

I felt mighty strange, listenin' to all that praise poured on him when I knew the ugly truth.

Lookin' back, I know now that day was the beginnin' of the end, right there in that church, the moment when I quit feelin' like I belonged in that town because of what I knew and they didn't. It was like I was suddenly standin' on the other side of a wall that was growin' higher and higher, each glorifyin' word another brick separatin' me off from the good folks of Rock Springs. But I'd set my boots on that trail and I had to follow it all the way through to the end, no matter how rough it got.

Or where it led me.

So I bucked up and tried to keep all my uneasiness under my hat and I reckon I did real good until the buryin'.

The townsfolk gave Hatch a prime spot in that little graveyard for his eternal rest, way higher up on the hill from where we'd buried Vic Stoddard just a few weeks before. Hatch's restin,' place had a grand view out over the town he'd saved and I heard folks talkin' about takin' up a collection to build him a monument.

The whole "Sheriff Hatch the Hero" thing had gotten way out of hand.

I was standin' right there at the graveside while they lowered Hatch's coffin into the ground, the preacher sayin' all the usual buryin' words about ashes to ashes and dust to dust, and the glorious resurrection to come. In the midst of all that, I got this sudden uneasy feeling, and when I looked up, there was Evie starin' at me across the open grave.

Oh, if looks could kill, I'd a been a dead man right then and there, skewered clear though and fallin' into that hole right beside Hatch. Evie was dabbin' at her eyes real dainty-like with a lacy little handkerchief, wearin' widow's weeds as if she'd been married to the man, all the while fixin' a cold stare at me that gave me shivers despite the bright sunshine. It bothered me to see her there, knowin' what she'd done to him. She didn't fool me one bit. I knew it wasn't Hatch she was sheddin' those tears over, neither, but rather all that money that was back in the bank instead of in her pockets.

I glared right back at her but she didn't flinch, her eyes as cold and calculatin' as that of any ol' rattler. I reckoned I'd made myself a real enemy there.

It seemed like the whole funeral foofaraw took an almighty long time. I dug at my collar but stopped when Ma glared disapprovin' at me, instead shiftin' both hands to holding tightly onto my hat until the final words were said and the service done at last.

Most folks, I reckon, took my unwillingness to talk that day as grief, and I was glad to let 'em think that.

It was far better that they never knew the truth.

PART THREE- The Decision

I was really late gettin' back to the boardin' house that night. Not that I had anything extra to do- the town seemed quiet and kinda' solemn even. Most folks went home early, and there was hardly any business at all in the saloon, only a couple of dusty cowpokes travelin' through on their way north to Montana, huddled glumly over their beers. I walked the town, careful as Hatch had taught me, but alone, like he'd said a man never should. I didn't have a choice though, so I did my duty and made sure everything was locked up tight and the people were safe

Hatch had taught me some good things, I couldn't deny that.

Done, I went back and locked up the sheriff's office, snuffin' out the light before walking down to the stable. I fetched Traveler out of the corral out back and spent near an hour groomin' him, makin' up for all the time I'd neglected him since I'd been in town. That wasn't the only reason I was there, though. Work like that, work I've done near every day of my life, always settles me, lets my mind wander free to think, and I had a powerful lot of thinkin' to do. But try as I might, the sad fact is, I didn't find any answers there in that barn, like I hadn't found any out on the street nor over at the jail, neither.

Answers weren't easy to come by.

I'd done all that I could to save Hatch, I'd given him every chance, I was certain sure of that. From the minute I'd figured out why my room had been ransacked and who would have done the same to Hatch's place, I'd still desperately wanted to believe in the man. I'd wracked my brain for some other explanation than the obvious one starin' me smack dab in the face. I'd sat in the dark there in Hatch's cabin and tried to imagine some possible way out of it, some way that I could be wrong, some way where I could understand what he'd done. But I couldn't ever get my head around it, how a man who'd lived for the law for so long could just throw it all aside for a schemin', connivin', no-good woman like Evie.

It was a trail I just couldn't follow.

How could the man I'd worked side by side with for all that time be the same one who could steal from the very people he'd sworn to protect? How could he take all they had from good hardworkin' people, people he saw and talked to every day? How could he think that anything but bad would come from what he'd done?

How could he not see who and what Evie was, and how she was usin' him?

I'd had a lot of time to think, waitin' for him that night in the unlit cabin with only a dead man and dark thoughts for company.

Right 'til the end, I'd wanted to be wrong; I wanted to erase the very thoughts from my brain because just thinkin' them made my stomach wind itself into knots. I kept hopin' that when Hatch rode in he'd laugh at my reasonin', point out its flaws, and have some sensible explanation that would wipe away all my suspicions like a fresh breeze blowin' away storm clouds. Hatch was a lawman, not a thief; he had to have some secret plan he hadn't told me about to trap the robbers, some clever scheme that would make it all right again so that I didn't have to feel like the ground had been ripped out from under my feet.

I held onto that hope right up until he walked into his cabin with that sack full of money, clutchin' it in a way that plain as day said he thought of it as his. Even then, I hoped there was a way I could make him come to his senses and see the wrong of what he was doing. It wasn't beyond fixin', not then, not yet. If I pointed that out to him clear enough, if I found just the right words to make him understand, he'd come to his senses, realize what he was doing, change his mind and give the money back.

I wanted that real bad, hoped for it, right up until he went for his gun.

That bullet tore me up inside just like it tore him up.

I'd shot him to save my life; there'd been no time to place my shot to wound instead of kill.

So I took the life of a man in self defense, and in defense of the law, and it left me feelin' all wrong inside, because my bullet had killed a man who, until that night, was someone I'd looked up to. Respected. Counted on. Believed in. Trusted.

Hatch hadn't been the man I'd thought he was. He'd been a thief and a liar, and a man who'd been willin' to shoot me to keep money that wasn't his. I'd seen that in his eyes in that final decisive moment before he'd gone for his gun.

The man I'd admired was gone.

Likely had never existed at all, at least, not in the way I saw him.

It all left a bad taste in my mouth and an ugly feelin' in the pit of my stomach, one that wasn't goin' away anytime soon.

I turned it all over in my mind, circled around and tried to ambush it from another direction, but none of the facts changed- I'd been wrong about Hatch, as wrong as a man could be.

I took Traveler back to the corral and turned him loose, then real slow walked on back to the boardin' house. I was hopin' that just this one night Ma would have given up on waitin' up for me and gone to bed, but no such luck. She was sittin' in her usual place on the porch, silent except for the constant creak-creak, creak-creak of that old rocker swayin' back and forth.

Her expression didn't change when she saw me, but I could tell she was relieved that I had returned at last. "You're late tonight, Jess."

"Yeah, Ma." I sat on the porch railin' like I'd done that first night, right in the same spot where I'd been when she'd given me the bad news about Vic. Seemed like this town was full of bad news. "It's been a long day," I admitted, not meetin' her gaze.

"A hard day, when you bury someone important to ya'."

"Yeah." Hatch had been that, for a while, up until a few days ago.

She looked at me in that way she had of seein' clear through a person and straight on to the heart of a thing. "More to it than that, isn't it, son? Somethin' powerful's botherin' you."

Oh, she was a smart woman, one that noticed things, and there was no sense in tryin' to lie to her; might as well tell the sun not to rise in the east. I hooked my thumbs on my gun belt, looked away and nodded, afraid that if I uttered a sound my voice would give me away.

"Tell me about it, boy."

"Can't," I answered hoarsely.

She looked at me keenly, her eyes studyin' my face. "Most times it helps to talk things out, Jess. A body can see 'em clearer that way."

I shook my head no. "Not this time, Ma. This is somethin' I have to work through on my own."

"Bad then, isn't it?"

I dropped my head and looked down at my boots. "Yeah."

Ma nodded, the rhythm of her rockin' steady as a heart beat as she pulled her shawl closer to her against the evenin' chill. "Man's got to decide what's right for himself, know what he needs, not just what other folks be wantin' from him."

I wondered then whether she suspected what I'd done, and I still do wonder that, knowin' like she did about the ransackin' of my room. She's a wise woman, the kind who can add two and two and know it don't ever add up to five.

But Ma didn't say anythin', the soft sounds of that chair's steady rockin' loud in the silence. At the far end of town, a dog barked once and again, and then stopped and a horse whinnied from over by the livery and was answered by another. They were nice, peaceful sounds, but they gave me no peace that night.

The quiet stretched out, and I knew Ma was still hopin' I'd talk, but I couldn't. Not to her. Not to anyone in that town. My burden was my own, and it wouldn't be right to lay it on anyone else.

I was about to get up and go inside when out of the blue she asked, real quiet, "You gonna be needin' that room another week?" She wasn't lookin' at me when she spoke, and I could hear the sadness in her voice. She knew, even before I did.

"Got someone else lookin' to rent it?" I asked lightly.

"Never know. Could have a whole stage load full of folks show up needin' a place to stay. Wouldn't want to disappoint 'em."

I sighed. "Reckon from here on out I'll only be rentin' by the day, Ma."

The steady pace of that rockin' chair faltered for a second and then went on, slower than before. Her face never changed but she sighed and nodded as if she'd expected as much. I felt bad for lettin' her down; hers was another name to be added to the long list of folks I'd been a disappointment to in my short life.

"Night, Ma," I tipped my hat and went inside, trudgin' up the stairs. Once I reached my room I stepped out of my boots, unbuckled my gun, took off my shirt and trousers. In my drawers I slipped into my bed, but tired as I was, I couldn't sleep.

In the silence, I listened to that chair's creak-creak, creak-creak from down on the porch. The sound of it went on for a real long time while her words rattled around inside my head. They had been good ones, and ones I'd best remember. A man's got to decide what he needs, not what other folks need of him, but that ain't an easy thing to figure.

Where did I belong? Where was my future? Rock Springs? Laramie? Someplace I hadn't found yet? Was I a ranch hand? A lawman? A gunhand and a drifter? I hadn't ever given much thought to what was gonna happen to me tomorrow; being on the drift for five years had meant I never had a plan; never put down roots; I was a tumbleweed, goin' wherever the wind carried me. And now I'd gotten myself into a spot where I had to decide one way to the other, and I never was much of a thinking man.

I did a lot more tossin' and turnin' than sleepin' that night.

PART FOUR- A Surprisin' Offer

The next morning, just as I was finishin' my second cup of coffee, the town council came to see me, all three of them businessmen wearin' their fanciest suits and biggest smiles, crowdin' into the front of the sheriff's office. I wasn't surprised to see them- the town needed law. What they offered me, though, that was unexpected, even though Hatch had hinted at it. Me, I'd never taken him seriously on the possibility.

"Good morning, deputy," said Phineas Harrison. He owned the town's biggest general store, the Grand Emporium. Josiah Howard, the banker, was right behind him and the barber, the baldin' and bespectacled Arthur Wallace, followed along in their wake.

I stood up and politely shook hands with each one of them. I'd have offered them a seat, but the room didn't have three extra chairs.

"We've come to talk to you, Mister Harper," said Harrison.

I stood up straighter, suddenly wary. In my experience, folks callin' me Mister Harper is generally not a good thing, but this time, to my surprise, I was wrong.

"You've done good work for the town, Jess," offered Mr. Howard.

"And you've been stalwart through the past troubled days, since the death of the sheriff," added the barber.

I nodded, still cautious.

"You've done an excellent job of keeping things in hand all by yourself," Harrison added. He looked around at the others, who nodded in agreement, all three heads bobbin' in unison.

"This town must have a sheriff," said the banker.

"Someone who can uphold the law," added the barber.

"And we're offering you the job," announced Harrison, smilin' real big, reachin' forward to slap me on the shoulder.

"The job as sheriff?" I asked, surprised. After all, I'd only been a lawman for a couple of weeks.

"I know you're green, but Hatch set store by you," said Harrison.

"He told folks you were a born lawman," the barber added.

I managed not to laugh at that.

"He said you were man enough for the job," noted the banker.

I felt a twinge there. Just a few days ago, hearin' praise like that from Hatch would have meant a lot to me, a whole lot. The words were hollow now, though, and worse than that, mockin'.

I suddenly realized the room had gone quiet and all three of them were starin' at me, waitin' for me to say somethin'.

"So you'll take the job?" Howard asked hopefully.

I shook my head and looked regretfully down at the star pinned on my chest. "Your trust in me, that means a lot, it really does," I answered honestly, liftin' my gaze to meet theirs. "It was good, real good, bein' the deputy here. But I ain't ready to be a sheriff." They started to protest, but I waved them down, knowin' what I had to do. "Truth is, I can't stay, not even as deputy. I've got a job back in Laramie, a job I need to get back to."

"But you've got a job here," Harrison pointed out, plainly disappointed, "a real good job."

"I know, and I appreciate it, I really do. But that job I started back in Laramie, it ain't finished." Sayin' that felt right and good, like a huge weight had just lifted off my shoulders, and I knew I was doin' the right thing.

"Are you going to be a lawman there?" asked the banker.

I let a bit of a grin slip onto my face. "Naw. I'll be plantin' tumbleweeds."

They all looked at me like I was daft, but I didn't explain; I couldn't, not even to myself, but I knew I needed to go back to the Sherman Ranch; that if I belonged anywhere, it was there, and no where else. "I'll stay on for a few more days until you can get you a new sheriff here. I won't leave you folks unprotected, but it's time I was on my way home."

PART FIVE- Head'n Out

I felt better for makin' the decision, but it was still hard to leave. I'd made myself some real good friends in Rock Springs, had even had thoughts of settlin' down and makin' a life for myself there. Bein' a lawman was good, honest work, even if the pay was lousy and the hours long, but the place just wasn't the same, and wouldn't ever be, not when I had to ride past that graveyard every day. There'd be no forgettin' Hatch and what he'd done. And yeah, what I'd done, too, to protect his good name. It was a lonesome feeling, holdin' onto a secret big as that.

And, if I'm bein' honest, I gotta admit that I missed the Sherman Ranch. Real often I'd caught myself wonderin' how things were goin' back there; if Slim had got the brandin' done or if Andy was doin' good with his schoolwork or if Jonesy's back was any better or if that scatter-brained colt I'd started ridin' was getting' any less likely to buck his fool head off when the wind rattled the trees or a bird flew overhead. It was a surprise, but that ranch was tuggin' at me, like an old memory that wouldn't let go.

Bein' the deputy in Rock Springs had been a good job; not that the job with Slim wasn't a good one, but ranchin' is hard work, can see to can't see, in the heat and the cold, the rain and the snow. It's dusty and it's dirty and the work just never, ever ends.

And, well, I'd offered to deputy for Hatch because the sheriff had gotten himself into a bad mess because of me; because I'd goaded him into takin' a stand against Curly; and I've never been one to let someone else fight my battles for me. Not that I couldn't have handled Curly on my own; I surely could have, but then, Curly hadn't played by the rules. He'd had an ace up his sleeve with his pal Gant to back him up out of the shadows.

Now, Hatch, he had taken me under his wing, treated me almost like a son, teachin' me about sheriff work and sharin' what he knew about upholdin' the law. And Ma, she reminded me of my Grandma Emma Dean- I swear she wanted to adopt me, but I think I'd been on my own way too long to accept livin' that way for too long a'spell, with someone waitin' up for me and hoverin' over me like I was just a sprout not old enough to shave. It felt kind'a nice for a while, I'll admit that, but I knew it would have started to get a mite irksome in not so very long; it was already startin' to close in on me before I decided to leave Rock Springs. And town life, well, it's just dandy for a spell, but I need to see the big open now and again, and I don't think a sheriff, or even a deputy, gets much chance for that. Towns, and the folk in 'em, need protectin' every single day of the year.

I'd been pulled in a lot of directions, unsure of what I was gonna do, stay or go, until Hatch did what he did.

Once I had my mind made up to go, I was anxious to hit the trail, but I had to wait. It sure seemed like it took forever, but it was in fact only a few days before a U.S. Marshal showed up on the stage, all set to keep the peace until the town could hire itself a new sheriff.

I was real glad to see him ride in; I was past ready to ride out, Traveler, too, who'd gotten fat and lazy hangin' out in that corral at the livery.

That last mornin' in Rock Springs, I got up real early and walked down to the sheriff's office. I took off that tin star and set in down on the desk in front of that Marshal. It surprised me how sad I felt, not because I wouldn't be wearin' it anymore, but because of how my feelin's toward it had changed. It had been somethin' special when I'd first pinned it on, somethin' I'd been right proud to wear. Now, it was just a battered piece of tin cut in a fancy shape. It didn't make a man anything better than what he was, I'd learned; sometimes, it even made him worse.

It was gonna be a long time before I trusted a lawman again.

Before I left town, I promised Ma I'd stop by and visit whenever I got over that way, and, though it's a fair piece to Rock Springs, I have been by a couple a'times. She's always glad to see me, and I'm glad to see her. I drink one of her free lemonades while we sit on the porch and catch up on the doin's in town, but I still get uneasy when I ride in past that cemetery, like Hatch is lookin' down and watchin' me.

And it ain't a good feelin'.

PART SIX- Goin' Home

It was a good feelin' to go back to Laramie.

When I rode through the gate onto Sherman land, I was surprised to see Slim ride up to greet me, all welcomin' and smilin', like I was that prodigal son out of the good book. I'll admit I'd had some fears that Slim had gone out and hired himself another hand, and didn't miss me and my troubles a'tall. But one look at his face quieted all those worries.

I hadn't been wrong.

I was wanted here, and that was a real good feelin'.

" _Well, came back huh?"_ Slim asked.

" _Darned if I didn't."_

" _Decided you were needed here more than there?"_

That wasn't all I'd decided, or learned _. "I found out one thing, Slim. It's not all who needs me, it's what I need too. Let's get on home."_

We rode on back to the house then, side by side, just grinnin like fools at each other, and I could see he was glad that I was back, though I don't think he was anywhere near as glad as I was to be back.

Slim was just about bustin' out all over with questions, but he didn't ask me any, not while Andy greeted me at the door like I was a lost pup who'd found his way home.

Jonesy's face lit into a smile at the sight of me, and then real quick he remembered he was a gruff old coot and started grumblin'. "You're worse than a bad penny, boy, can't get rid of ya' even for tryin'." His stern words were undermined by a grin that said he didn't mean what he'd said.

I even enjoyed that supper of Jonesy's Mulligan stew and biscuits, though don't you dare tell him I said that. And don't you ever tell Ma that anyone's cookin' could compare to hers or next time I travel through Rock Springs, I won't get me another one a'those free lemonades.

I was sure enough happy to be back at the Sherman Ranch, but there were still things eatin' away at me, things I was still workin' my way through.

We finished eatin' supper and then me and Slim went out to sit on the front porch, enjoyin' the cool air of the evenin'. I could hear Jonesy inside talkin' to Andy, helpin' the youngster finish his school work.

Neither one of us said a word for a long time, though it was plain that Slim had his curiosity up. Finally, it got the best of him and he broke the silence. "You sure were gone a long time, Jess. Thought maybe you'd found yourself a gal and was fixin' to get hitched," he suggested, laughter in his voice.

I threw him a dirty look and the laugh disappeared. There wasn't nothin' funny about what had happened in Rock Springs, nothin' funny at all.

It got real quiet again until, just over the hill, a coyote howled into the night, a lonesome, empty sound, full of sadness and longin' and despair.

"Guess ya must'a liked it over there, huh?" Slim asked when it got quiet again.

"Did," and it had been a real surprise. Up until a couple of months ago, when I'd rode into the Sherman Ranch, I hadn't been able to stay anywhere for more than a few weeks without gettin' the itch to move on. Seemed like I'd changed clear around, findin' two places in a row that had me thinkin' about puttin' down roots. "I gave some thought ta' stayin', what with havin' that good job and all."

"Really?" he seemed surprised.

"Folks in Rock Springs treated me fine, made me welcome. Ma at the boardin' house cooked better meals than I've had in a month of Sundays. Even Mr. Howard the banker seemed to like me, and Sheriff Hatch, a'course." Somethin' in my voice must have given away my discomfort, because Slim threw a sudden puzzled look my way.

I sighed, and decided I had to 'fess up because Slim wasn't goin' to rest, or let me rest, until I did. "I nearly stayed in Rock Springs because of Hatch, but in the end, it was because of him that I left." I sipped my coffee, lookin' out across the dark and quiet ranch yard.

The long ride back to Laramie had been a strange one- filled with excitement at the thought of seein' Andy and Slim and Jonesy again, and tinged with sadness at leavin' Rock Springs. Folks there had taken a shine to me, and me to them, and a part of me wanted to stay there and belong to that place, while another part called me back to where I was; turned out, that was the stronger part.

Though maybe it wouldn't have been strong enough to bring me back, if Hatch hadn't been weak enough to let Evie lead him astray.

Slim looked over at me and raised a questionin' eyebrow, still waitin' to hear the rest. So I told him the whole long story then, the good parts and the bad parts; about what had happened to my friend Vic Stoddard, and about Curly Troy, and Ma Poole and Sheriff Hatch and Evie. About how I'd surprised myself askin' Hatch for a deputy's job, though I knew a part of that was because I didn't want him to pay my debt- he'd tangled with Curly on account of me- and he needed someone to watch his back.

I told him about the bank robbery and how losin' all that money near ruined the whole town. And finally I told Slim about Hatch and Evie, and what he'd done because of her, and what I'd gone and done to protect his name because it just seemed wrong to ruin a man's whole life's work because of one mistake, even if it was a bad one. I never told the whole story to anyone else, before or since, but I knew I could trust Slim with the truth, even if, like I reckoned, he disapproved.

He frowned when I told him about coverin' up for Hatch. Lyin' don't ever sit well with Slim, not even lyin' for a good reason, and I could read that on his face plain, that he was upset with what I was tellin' him. But funny, I could swear he seemed kind of pleased, too.

"So why'd you come back here then, if you got things all fixed up there?" he asked.

Boy, Slim can sure throw out a good question, make a man consider things he really don't want to look at too close. I shrugged. "Don't rightly know, Slim. Rock Springs is a good town. Folks care about each other. And, well," this was hard to confess, and even harder to believe, and I could hear the disbelief in my own voice, "truth is, I kinda liked bein' a deputy. People looked up to me, an' respected me."

Slim grinned knowingly. "Felt good, didn't it?"

"Yeah, real good. Never knew what that was like before," I admitted. "I was proud to pin on that badge," I added softly, feeling sad.

He looked over at me, waitin' for me to explain.

"I wasn't bad at deputyin', neither, so Hatch said." Even I could hear the regret in my voice. I'd never thought much of lawmen, never really got to know one before, but I'd flat out liked Hatch. He'd seemed a good and decent man, and I'd looked up to him. I'd wanted to be like him, and then it turned out he was just another man who put himself first before everyone else.

See, worse than betrayin' the law he'd sworn to uphold, Hatch had turned against the people who'd counted on him; put himself and what he wanted above what they needed to survive; took from each one of them somethin' that they didn't have to give. I can look past a lot that a man does, but I couldn't look past that. What he'd done had hurt, hurt a lot; and he'd let me down, bad, in ways I'd been let down by friends before. It had left me wonderin' if the problem wasn't somethin' in me. Seemed like I was always pickin' folks for friends who weren't quite what they seemed; leastwise, until I met Slim, and I suddenly realized that meetin' Slim had given me the thought that I could maybe trust someone else, too.

Except I'd been wrong.

Slim was one of a kind.

I sighed. "After Hatch died, the town folks wanted me to stay, even offered me the job as their sheriff."

Slim surprised me; he didn't laugh like I expected. "Smart of 'em."

That startled me. I looked over at him, surprised.

"You can be a pretty good sort, Jess, when you try. You ain't near as bad as you think you are. I reckon you'd make a darn good lawman, if that was what you wanted."

I thought on that a minute, then nodded. "I thought maybe I did, for a while," I admitted. "Seems like a lonely life, though, everyone always dependin' on ya', always expectin' ya' to do right and be fair t' everyone, and take care of 'em. I don't think my shoulders are wide enough to carry a whole town."

In the dim light, I could see Slim nod, understandin' what I was sayin'. "Wouldn't leave a man much time to go fishin', I reckon."

I nodded. There was that. "And a'course, sooner or later, my past would'a caught up with me. It always does, and then folks would'a knowed I wasn't lawman material."

"Plenty of men who've had trouble with the law pin on a badge, Jess. And they make real good lawmen, sometimes the best."

"I know. But, I think they'd a'been disappointed in me." Ma sure would have. I looked down at my hands. "Especially about Hatch."

"None of them knew," he said, kindly.

"But I did." I let the words hang there in the air, wantin' to be done with all this talkin'. But Slim was still lookin' at me, expectin' me to tell him the rest, and I knew it was important that I did. "I did the right thing, coverin' up what Hatch done. I got no doubts about that, Slim. But it still bothered me, knowin' the truth about him. Like I was livin' a lie among all those good people. An' bein' there, every day I was reminded of it, over and over. I couldn't live easy, you know?" I shrugged, unable to put into words how wrong it had felt. "Sundays, it felt like that preacher was aimin' his fire and brimstone square at me."

"He probably was," Slim chuckled, then went serious when he saw that I wasn't amused.

"Doin' the right thing shouldn't leave a man feelin' all wrong inside," I protested.

"Right and wrong ain't always so perfectly clear, Jess, nor is tellin' good from bad."

"Sure," I answered, disbelievin'. Slim always knows; it's like he's got his compass set, all firm and steady, aimed right at true north. I wished I could be the same, so certain about things like he is. "I just…" my coffee cup was empty and I toyed with the rim. "What Hatch done …" I shook my head, unable to find the words to explain how troubled I'd felt, but I didn't have to say more, because I knew that Slim understood, his next words cuttin' right to the chase.

"Hatch let you down."

"Reckon so. I'd looked up to him, figured I could learn a lot from him, could learn 'bout the law and about keepin' it. Instead all I learned was that a woman like Evie can turn any man's head." I sighed and looked over at my boss who all unexpected had become my friend. "You know, Slim, I was real proud when I pinned that star on my chest. It was special, bein' trusted that way with somethin' so important as the safety of the town. Me, Jess Harper, bein' a lawman, never figured on such a thing." I heard my voice turn darker, an edge of bitterness creepin' in. "But after I figured out that Hatch took that money, well, that star wasn't all bright and shiny any more; it was tarnished and dirty, and I couldn't be proud a'wearin' it."

Slim was quiet for a moment. "Lawmen, Jess, they're just men like the rest of us, some good, some bad. They can get turned around sometimes, make mistakes."

"I know." I leaned forward, elbows on knees, feelin' sad. "I thought Hatch was somethin' special, but he was rotten at the core."

"He was flawed, Jess. We all are in some way. None of us is perfect."

"But a good man doesn't quit tryin' to do right, doesn't just throw in the towel, an' jump to the other side."

Slim reached over and put a hand on my shoulder then, gave it a squeeze, and didn't say a thing, but I didn't need to hear any words to know.

And that was why I'd left Rock Springs and come back here to the ranch, because here felt like home was supposed to be, like I could tell Slim anythin' I'd done, and he would always give me a fair shake, see the good side of it, even if he didn't agree with it.

Here was a place I didn't have to hide my past and my flaws.

Here was home.

I heard that coyote howl again, from further away now, and this time, from over to the west, another one answered. I reckoned that, where he was now, he wasn't gonna be so lonesome anymore.

\- The End -

*Dialogue in italics is directly from the episode

15


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